Millionaires' Destinies(196)

She sat back in her chair and stared at him. “Oh, my God, you’re right. I do that all the time. I’d never even noticed it before.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “I suppose it’s something I picked up from my mother. She was always trying to forestall a fight. If she said everything was lousy first, it stole the ammunition from my father or my stepfathers. Now that I think about it, my grandmother did the same thing. There’s one heck of a family tradition to pass along.”

Ben heard the pain behind that sad description of what her life had been like, a succession of excuses from two women who’d apparently lived their lives in fear. Rather than being a positive role model, first Kathleen’s mother and then her grandmother had apparently set her up to expect very little from men other than criticism. It was little wonder that Kathleen had chosen a man who would fit into that male-as-a-superior-being mold. The fact that she’d dumped him rather quickly was the miracle.

“I’m sorry,” he told her quietly.

She shrugged, looking vaguely embarrassed at having revealed so much. “It’s over.”

“No, it’s not,” he pointed out. “You’re still apologizing unnecessarily.”

She forced a smile. “You haven’t tasted your dinner yet. Maybe the apology was called for.”

His heart ached at her attempt to make a joke of something that had shaped her life. “Even if it tastes like burnt sawdust, it wouldn’t give me the right to demean you,” he said fiercely. “You made the effort to make a nice meal. That’s the only thing that counts.”

She stared at him, her eyes filled with wonder. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

Wishing there weren’t a whole expanse of table between them so he could reach for her hand, he nodded. “Every word,” he said gently.

Then he picked up his fork and took his first bite of the perfectly grilled, perfectly seasoned lamb and sighed with genuine pleasure. “I should be grateful for that bad example your mother set for you,” he told her. “Something tells me it’s the reason you learned to cook like a gourmet chef.”

The delight that filled her eyes was like the sun breaking through after a storm. It filled him with a matching joy…along with the desire to strangle a few more people on her behalf. But maybe he didn’t need to do that. Maybe all he needed to do was to teach her that she was worthy of being treated well. Then if he left—no, when he left—she would be ready for and open to the man who could make all her dreams come true.





Kathleen lay awake most of the night thinking about the evening she’d just spent with Ben. It might well have been the most perfect evening of her entire life.

It wasn’t just about the Christmas tree that they’d managed to finish decorating after two in the morning. Nor was it about the laughter they’d shared or the gentle teasing. While all of that had been special, it had paled compared to the gift he’d given her—the reminder that she deserved to be treated well. It was something she’d always known intellectually, something she’d been smart enough to see when she’d ended her marriage, but experiencing it again and again with every word Ben uttered, with every deed he did finally made the lesson sink in.

It was funny how she’d always insisted on respect professionally, knew that she commanded it even as a rank amateur in an elite circle of very discerning gallery owners, but she’d never expected or demanded it as a woman. Ben was right. It was what she’d learned at her mother’s knee and it was past time she put it behind her.

Oddly, she thought she’d done that simply by having the strength to end her marriage, but that hadn’t gone far enough. The fear of repeating the same mistake had kept her from moving on, from allowing another man the chance to get close. How ironic that the one who’d breached her reserve was a man who had scars of his own from the past. She wondered if he knew how deeply they continued to affect his own choices.

Since she’d sent Ben home the night before with leftover mousse, she’d decided against taking a run out to the farm this morning. That gave her a few extra minutes to linger over coffee and the rare treat of one of the leftover banana nut muffins she’d made earlier in the week for Ben.

She was still savoring the last bite when the doorbell rang. Glancing at her watch, she was surprised to see that it was barely seven-thirty. Who on earth dropped in at that hour?

She opened the front door to find Destiny standing there, looking as if she’d just stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine. Kathleen immediately felt frumpy. She hadn’t even run a brush through her hair yet this morning.